


if we could meet again

by iseekdaylight



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pen Pals, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iseekdaylight/pseuds/iseekdaylight
Summary: it was in autumn when johnny fell in love.it was in autumn when ten had his heart broken.or, johnny and ten exchange notes underneath the desk of a university lecture hall.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 38
Kudos: 191





	if we could meet again

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a longer version of my tweet fic [here](https://twitter.com/loveseosweet/status/1165805516544589825). i added and revised some stuff for this version. for those who read the initial fic, i hope you'll still enjoy this version!

It’s late afternoon when Ten steps inside the lecture hall for his last class of the day—some history elective—and week. He slams his arm on the door with more force than he intended. He yelps, stumbling forward and dropping his backpack and the binder he was holding.

As if his day couldn’t get any worse, his binder bursts open, papers and papers of sketches spilling out on the stairs. He groans and crouches down, reaching for the sheets of paper and hastily stuffing them in his binder.

Luckily, some guy with front teeth resembling a rabbit’s was kind enough to help him gather his papers. Ten hopes his smile doesn’t come off as a grimace as he mutters his thanks and heads to the nearest empty seat.

His usual seat is the farthest one by the window, giving him a glimpse of the campus in all its aesthetic glory. From his view, the entire quad is covered with orange leaves. Even though he’s sitting from the second floor, he could hear the crunching of leaves for every step people make.

Almost everyone in the quad is smiling and laughing. Then again, it’s Friday, and the first week of the fall semester is about to wrap up. 

Usually, Ten, would feel the same, but right now, his chest feels like it weighs a ton, and all he wants to do is curl up in the comfort of his room, and maybe binge-watch a Netflix series. Anything but worry about the weight of the entire school year bearing down on him.

> _have you ever wished you could go back in time?_

He randomly writes it on the back of his notebook, on a page he had doodled on while listening to instructions from the professor of his earlier class. He remembers stepping onto campus three years ago, eyes wide and mind still absorbing the bright lights of Seoul. What he would give to be a freshman again.

“You okay?”

Ten hastily tears the page and shoves the torn paper under his desk. His best friend, Kun, had just taken a seat beside him, and suddenly his chest feels lighter. Kun always has that effect on him, and he’s grateful.

“I’m okay,” he answers with a smile. And for the first time that day, he believes he is.

> _Hi,_
> 
> _I don’t know if you’ll ever see my reply, and I don’t know where you’re coming from, but I hope you’ll believe that everything is going to be ok. Find a reason to smile and let it motivate you throughout the day._
> 
> _Good luck! :)_

Ten blinks a few times, making sure he read the note right. He then looks around the lecture hall cautiously, as if he’ll receive a moment of clarity when he finds … whoever he’s supposed to find.

He doesn’t remember leaving anything under the desk before he left his Friday class last week. That is, until he noticed the familiar doodles slightly peeking out from underneath the desk. Obviously, someone has seen it and decided to write back. It’s a wonder why the person decided to write at all, probably believing that Ten would see it again after a couple of days.

And for some reason, it happened.

“You look out of it.”

Ten crumples the paper and looks up to find Kun smiling at him as he takes his seat. “Just ready for the weekend to start,” he says with a sigh.

“I feel you.” Kun pats him on the shoulder. “I’m meeting Sicheng for dinner at the nearby pizza place. Wanna come?”

He still has dance practice after this, he remembers. Then again, Kun has some student council meeting after this, so he guesses the dinner won’t be until later. He shrugs. “Sounds good.”

Sometime in the middle of the lecture, Ten uncrumples the note and reads through it again. A smile crosses his face, and he decides to tear out a piece of paper from his notebook and write a reply.

> _hey,_
> 
> _you caught me at a bad day. i was stressed about our senior project, not to mention we were getting ready for a performance of our dance club._
> 
> _your words definitely cheered me up. thanks. :)_

“A senior, huh?” 

Johnny speaks a little too loudly that several heads from bemused classmates turn his way. He mutters an apology and looks down on his desk, in particular, at a piece of paper with intricate doodles and a note longer than the one he had encountered last week.

At first, he’s suspected Lee Jooeun as the writer of these letters—the girl has always been approaching him after class with her cheeks flushed—but no sooner does he get a glimpse of her handwriting does Johnny conclude that she can’t be that person.

He’s not even sure why he replied to that random thought on a piece of paper that was obviously meant to be discarded. But some … strange force coerced him to, and now he wants to ask this person he’s talking to what they’re on.

Though, as he listens to his professor throughout the class, he realizes he might sound too harsh on the person. Because, based on what was written, the person obviously had a bad day and Johnny’s words cheered them up.

He slips a new note underneath his desk just as the professor calls him to answer a question. Back to reality.

Ten takes wider steps than usual when he gets to his classroom that Friday afternoon, immediately ducking and peering under his desk. A small smile breaks to his lips as soon as he sees a folded piece of paper in the usual place. This class may not be his favorite, but it’s these regular correspondences that motivate him to not skip a single session.

Reaching in, Ten takes the note and opens it.

> _It feels weird that I’m a freshman giving advice to a senior right now, but I’m glad i cheered you up. :)_
> 
> _If it’s ok to ask, what’s your major? I’m a first-year student from the Department of Communication, Major in Journalism._
> 
> _\- Johnny_

His eyes widen as he scans the last paragraph, particularly the signature at the end. The revelation of his pen pal’s (?) name surely changes the dynamics of their conversation.

Ten’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but he could tell that the writer—Johnny—doesn’t mean harm. The freshman is just genuinely curious.

> _nice to meet you, johnny! i don’t want to generalize, but your english name explains your fluency in written english. :P_
> 
> _i’m ten (yup, like the number). fourth year from the department of fine arts, major in design. grew up in thailand and studied in international school, then flew to seoul for college. :)_

“Who’s Ten?”

Someone plucks the note out of his hand. Johnny tries to grab it, but he fails. “Yuta, give it back!”

“I will, after I read it.” Yuta smirks, passing the note to the young man seated to his right. “Taeyong, look. Johnny’s got a love letter!”

“It’s not a love letter!” Johnny reaches to grab the note from Taeyong this time, and he honestly believes that Taeyong, who’s more sensible than Yuta, would give it back.

Taeyong, in fact, did not give it back, and Johnny had never felt so betrayed in his life.

“You’re flirting with a senior, huh?” Taeyong looks up and mirrors the smirk on Yuta’s face. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because there’s nothing important to say?” Johnny raises an eyebrow, successfully snatching the note away this time. He had formed a bond with Yuta and Taeyong the moment they were grouped together for a project, and sure, they’re as close friends as freshman friends could get, but that doesn’t mean he has to tell them _everything_.

“But this is your future girlfriend we’re talking about!”

Johnny takes a deep breath. “You sure that’s a girl, Yuta?”

Yuta throws an arm around Johnny’s shoulder and innocuously plucks the note out of his hand. _Again_. “I don’t know, girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever. You do you.”

“I’m into both, so thanks, I guess?” Johnny can’t believe that his coming out to his friends had to be in this setting, but at least they seem cool about it.

They get shushed by their professor and they duck their heads in apology. Johnny gets the chance to snatch the note away from Yuta again.

> _No worries! I’ve lived in Chicago since I was a kid then flew to Korea for college. I’m actually ethnically Korean, but I’m an American citizen._
> 
> _Major in Design? That’s so cool! Are you a painter or do you do another medium of art? Not to brag, but I do a bit of photography._
> 
> _P.S. If your work gets exhibited on campus, please tell me!_
> 
> _P.P.S. I—_

“What’s so funny?” Kun asks.

Ten stops chuckling, whipping his head to see Kun glancing at him, head tilted to the side. “Nothing,” he whispers, though the small tug of his lips is an indication.

Kun doesn’t pry, humming in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the lecture.

Ten does the same, though he can’t resist smiling to himself as he remembers the post-post script on the small sheet of paper he’s holding.

> _P.P.S. I’m sorry if this is an awkward question, but are you a boy or a girl? Just wanna make sure._

> _johnny,_
> 
> _i’m a guy, but please don’t go around calling me hyung. it feels nice to take a break from speaking and writing korean._
> 
> _i mostly sketch and draw, though sometimes i paint. my best friend, kun, is better at painting, though. once i’m finished with my senior’s portfolio (or better, if it gets exhibited on campus), i’ll let you know. :)_
> 
> _photography? that’s amazing. have you joined competitions or are you just taking photos for fun?_
> 
> _\- ten_

Johnny’s shoulders loosen as he reads the note. He doesn’t want to offend his newly made friend, no matter how strange their first encounter had been.

He slips the letter between the lapels of his binder, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the number of notes he has collected over the past few days. His roommate Taeil had pointed out how much he likes to collect things like movie tickets, but Johnny admits that he’s a softie and likes trivial things to keep himself happy.

And these letters are the reasons he looks forward to attending Feature Writing class. Aside from the actual lecture, of course.

> _Ten,_
> 
> _I’m planning to join this competition, just to try it out. I got in as a photographer of the campus publication, but I haven’t had a chance to show much of my work, especially in hard-hitting events. I hope the competition will be my big break._
> 
> _Sending you one of my printed photos. I’d appreciate your thoughts. From one artist to another. :)_
> 
> _Your budding photographer,_ _  
> __Johnny_

There’s a photo attached to the back of the note. Ten takes it out and finds himself staring at a photo of the shores during sunset. The sky is colored with pink and purple hues, and the waves look quiet.

Ten remembers being back in Thailand when he and his family would visit the beach during the school holidays. He closes his eyes and imagines a cooler breeze brushing against his face, the roughness of the sand of his feet, and the cool water around his feet.

For some reason, he feels home isn’t so far away, as long he clings to his photo. Smiling, he takes out a fresh sheet of paper, making a mental note to look for something in his portfolio he could share to Johnny in return.

That same day, he grabs a copy of the latest campus publication in the stands and browses the photos and the byline. He doesn’t see any of Johnny’s photos. He guesses it’s because he’s a freshman, which was too bad because the photo tucked inside his planner is stunning that the world deserves to see it.

He tacks the photo on the corkboard on his desk and finally makes the time to call his family.

> _johnny,_
> 
> _from one artist to another, your photo is amazing. i love how you captured the colors of the sunset. the photo has a nostalgic feel, maybe longing, too. :)_
> 
> _actually, it reminded me of home in thailand. when i looked at the photo, i remember spending time with my family at the beach. i realized i haven’t called them since i returned to campus, so i’ll call them when i get back to the dorm._
> 
> _anyway, keep up the good work! :)_
> 
> _p.s. i realized you just moved away from home, too. how are you dealing with it so far?_

> _Ten,_
> 
> _Thank you! :D This is one of my favorite shots, and part of the portfolio I’ll be submitting for the competition (which is tomorrow). If I win, the campus will display my work at the library’s art gallery._
> 
> _The first month in Seoul felt really lonely at first. I grew up an only child and was close to my parents, so adjusting to a new environment was hard. Luckily, I have amazing friends at the dorm who helped me feel at home._
> 
> _I still miss my parents, of course. But I guess what I’m trying to say that I’ll miss them all the time, but at least now it’s more bearable because I know they’re a Skype call away and they’ll be flying here to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with me. :D_
> 
> _I hope you have amazing plans for winter break._
> 
> _\- Johnny_

> _johnny,_
> 
> _i could really tell how much you love your parents._
> 
> _i mean, i love mine, too (and my sister, even if she’s annoying sometimes). i guess i just wanted to get away from thailand and move to someplace new that i took for granted how much my family’s presence meant to me._
> 
> _but we’re ok! i’m actually flying back to bangkok for winter break, which means no winter in seoul for me. :( oh well._
> 
> _\- ten_
> 
> _p.s. since you were so kind to send a sample of your work, here’s mine. let me know what you think. from one artist to another._

There’s a longer sheet of paper below the small one. Johnny pulls it out and finds himself looking at an intricate black-and-white sketch. There’s some sort of cube, half-full (or is it half-empty?) aquarium with fish swimming inside. Below it is a hand reaching out for what looks like roses, stemming out from an inverted triangle that causes ripples on the ground. Or water.

Johnny’s no expert with artworks, but he knows there’s something special with the sketch in front of him. Something stirs in his chest, but he doesn’t know how he should describe it in some way.

He has five minutes left in class, so he hastily tears a piece of paper and starts to write as much.

> _I’m no expert with art theory, but your sketch_ does _make me think. I do like how everything is intricately drawn? I’m sorry if it’s not as constructive as you probably wanted. :(_
> 
> _What does come to mind is this koi pond that I ran into when my family and I went for a vacation in Japan. Have you ever wanted to just lie back and relax like that?_
> 
> _Your fellow artist,  
>  Johnny_

> _johnny,_
> 
> _no need to apologize. i’m glad that my artwork made you think. that’s the main purpose of art, anyway: to stir something inside people that makes them think or act._
> 
> _but i’ll let you in on a secret: the koi fish is my main inspiration. i sketched that when i was stressed about my academic workload. i know everyone is, but there’s a certain pressure for seniors to be experts at navigating academic pressure when, in fact, it’s not. some of us work through the pressure well, while others feel like they’re back to square one._
> 
> _(i waver between the two situations.)_
> 
> _anyway, sorry about that emotional unloading. i hope that didn’t turn you off from writing to me in the future. as much as this situation is weird, i do enjoy our regular correspondences._

_“I do enjoy our regular correspondences.”_ Those words are enough for Johnny’s lips to tug up and for his heart to skip a beat. Ten likes writing to him, which meant the feelings are mutual.

“You look like an idiot, grinning like that.” Yuta nudges him by the elbow, and when Johnny looks, his friend is smirking. “Writing love letters to your boyfriend again?”

Johnny ignores Yuta’s comment and looks away when he feels his face warming up. He _might_ have talked about Ten a lot, leading to his friends teasing him about his new “crush” (Taeyong) or “boyfriend” (Yuta). 

He’s not going to lie. The moment they introduced themselves, Johnny felt some sort of connection with his desk pen pal. Maybe it’s because the last time he had written letters to someone was for college applications, or … when he was in grade school and part of a pen pal program. 

He finds it so easy to lay out his feelings for Ten, even feelings like he could never divulge to his friends, not even his parents.

The thing is, they’re just that: pen pals. Barely. Johnny doesn’t even know what Ten looks like …

He sits up straighter and leans back, poking Taeyong who is sitting to Yuta’s right. “Taeyong, you have an Instax, right?”

Taeyong nods. “I have it right now. Why?”

They have ten minutes left until class ends. Johnny could put it off until the next letter, but he doesn’t want to. He stands up, barely getting the attention of the entire lecture hall. “I need it for a few minutes.”

> _Ten,_
> 
> _Thank you for opening up to me. I know it’s not easy to lay down your emotions, especially for someone who you’ve only gotten to know through a series of letters._
> 
> _I’m not a senior, but I think I understand how you feel. Sometimes I feel like I’m carefree with my studies while my friends often complain about schoolwork. People think I don’t take my schoolwork seriously, but I do like writing and photography, and I wanna be the best in whatever career I’ve decided on._
> 
> _I know it’s not going to ease your pressure as much, but from the artwork I’ve seen, you really have great talent, Ten. I think you’ll do amazing after you graduate._
> 
> _Johnny_
> 
> _P.S. I hope you won’t mind that I’ve added something in my letter. We’ve been writing for a while, and I thought it would be nice to put a face to those words._

Ten’s binder is starting to fill up that he decides to buy a separate one to accommodate notes upon notes that he receives every other day. Why he has kept it a secret from Kun, he doesn’t know. Then again, Ten is entitled to keep things to himself. Kun doesn’t pry, anyway, so Ten doesn’t divulge.

Something falls on his lap just as he’s halfway through the letter. It’s a photo, and he gingerly takes and flips it.

His breath hitches as he takes in the photo of who he assumes is Johnny. Ten had tried his best to imagine what Johnny would look like, but nothing ever compared to the boy in the photo he’s holding.

Black hair, honey-colored eyes, broad shoulders. Johnny’s … handsome.

When Johnny reaches underneath his desk, he discovers an envelope addressed to him. There’s no letter, but a photo printed on a regular-sized photo paper.

“Not fair,” he mutters under his breath. Though the quirk of his lips betray him as he fiddles with the black-and-white photo of Ten—seated on what looks like a bamboo bench, head turned to the side as he reads something from a sheet of paper.

Not a photo that Johnny was expecting he’d receive in return.

He wonders if it’s possible to like someone from someone’s side profile and handwriting.

The latest note Ten receives is the shortest one. And the most meaningful.

He finds it hard to focus on today’s lecture as the mere six words of the note run through his mind. Why he’s nervous, he doesn’t really know.

> _I want to see you, Ten._

He finds himself agreeing, anyway. He’s grown fond of Johnny, and he wants to see him, too.

> _i want to see you, too._
> 
> _meet me underneath the large tree near the library. friday. 5pm._

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Taeyong and Johnny look up to see Yuta, who has his arms crossed. It’s seven in the morning, too early to be functioning for school but they need to meet for a presentation and they need breakfast. Yuta’s knowing look, crossed arms, and waggling eyebrows are a sign of an impending round of teasing that Johnny doesn’t want to happen.

Yuta jabs his finger toward Johnny. “You’re going on a date with your boyfriend.”

The first person that comes to mind is Ten’s side profile in his black-and-white photo, and he instantly avoids Yuta’s gaze. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” he mumbles, looking down at the dark liquid in his coffee cup.

“Yuta,” Taeyong sighs, throwing his friend a look. “Just because Johnny’s dressed differently today doesn’t mean he’s going on a date with someone.”

Johnny feels his face turn beet red, looking down at his leather jacket. “Taeyong …”

Taeyong beams. “It’s okay, Johnny, you look great. I’m sure your date will be blown away.”

He groans and bangs his head on the cafeteria table.

“Where is he?”

Ten waited. But like all clichés, something goes wrong and Johnny doesn’t show up.

He had been sitting on the bench underneath the large tree near the library for god knows how long. It was hard to miss because Ten is the only person sitting on it, and the rest of the people who have been hanging out near him have packed up and left.

He gets up when he receives a message from Kun, asking him where he was and if he’ll wait up for him. Ten goes home with a sunken heart, thinking of angry words he can write on paper.

> _johnny,_
> 
> _i waited under the huge tree near the library, as we agreed upon, but you never showed up._

Confusion clouds Johnny’s brain as he leans back on the chair, reading the note on top of his desk. It feels like someone had stabbed on his chest as he picks up on the change of Ten’s tone.

He _had_ been there, thirty minutes early. He had waited for two hours, just in case Ten get held up with schoolwork or club stuff.

Ten never showed up, and now he’s accusing Johnny of ditching him?

Johnny takes a deep breath and spends the rest of the class formulating a calm reply.

> _Ten,_
> 
> _I have to wonder if you’re waiting at the wrong place at the wrong time? You did tell me to wait under the huge tree near the library at around 5pm. There’s only one tree there, and there’s a fountain facing it, so you can’t miss it._
> 
> _Can we try again on Wednesday, same time?_
> 
> _I still want to meet you, so I’ll be waiting._
> 
> _\- Johnny_

“A fountain facing it …?” Ten mumbles as he reads the letter, ignoring Sicheng’s not-so-discreet way of stealing a fry from his plate. “Kun, is there a fountain near the library?”

Kun frowns, chin tucked under the knuckles of his hand holding the chopsticks. “We used to,” he replies. “But the fountain got demolished last year. Part of the plans to expand the library.”

Ten squints at the letter, suddenly remembering the sight of the remnants of what used to be the library fountain. Whether or not Johnny was referring to that, the fact of the matter is that Johnny stood him up then implied that it was Ten who stood him up.

Then again, this might be a misunderstanding they couldn’t correct because there’s no way they could contact each other. So he decides they should try again.

> _johnny,_
> 
> _i’m miffed that you’re implying that i stood you up, but i do think we should try again this monday._
> 
> _i’m confused, though. the fountain you mentioned was demolished last year. not sure if you were referring to its remnants, but otherwise, i’ll be waiting under the tree._
> 
> _looking forward to meeting you._
> 
> _\- ten_

It’s almost past six, and Johnny is losing his excitement of finally seeing Ten.

He had gone to their meeting place thirty minutes early, like last time, and was thrilled to see someone sitting on the bench. But he wasn’t named Ten, and he had left a quarter before five.

He didn’t want to think Ten stood him up again so he waited, even if the hot coffee he had brought along had already cooled down. “Where is he?” he asks, looking around his surroundings. The number of students around the campus is slowly dwindling, and he’s slowly losing hope that he would see Ten today.

Johnny momentarily forgets waiting when his phone beeps. It’s from his advisor for the photography competition.

_“Are you on campus? I have to talk to you ASAP. It’s about your entry.”_

The question brings him back to his senses. He looks around the library area and remembers why he’s sitting on the bench by the tree, in front of the fountain. If he leaves now, he won’t see Ten again. But it’s also past their scheduled meet-up time. Will he even show up?

He stands up, and the empty coffee cup falls out of his lap and rolls across the pavement.

It’s past six when Ten arrives, and he practically skids to a stop in front of their meeting place.

Their professor had dismissed them early, giving his group time to discuss an upcoming project. The next thing he knew, he had engaged in a long debate about the delivery of the project that he had forgotten about the time.

He was ready to apologize profusely for being late until he sees a cup of coffee on the bench, wrapped with a blue handkerchief.

> _johnny,_
> 
> _this time i had been late, so i’m_ really _sorry_ . _i feel worse because you brought coffee. :(_
> 
> _i know this won’t be enough, but i washed your handkerchief for you. let’s try to set another meeting, and this time, coffee’s on me. :)_
> 
> _\- ten_

“That’s the most idiotic smile I’ve seen.”

“Shut up, Taeyong, our Johnny’s in love.”

Johnny ignores Taeil and Taeyong’s comments, his grip tightening on the note.

“No, hyung, we’re not going to because some girl at the bar asked him out and he flat-out said no,” Yuta quips (how did he even squeeze himself in the door room without Johnny noticing), sipping his bubble tea.

“I’m guessing things worked out well between you and this Ten guy?” Taeyong asks.

Johnny lies down on his bed, hands covering the smile on his lips. “No. He was late, and I had to leave because my advisor texted.”

“I told you to ask for his number. Or email. You know that’s how everyone talks to each other now, right?”

He turns so that he’s facing Taeil, smile still in place. “I will, when we see each other in person. But for now, can you do me a favor?”

Johnny’s fingers close in on the handkerchief on his lap. The smell of sandalwood makes him feel like he’s flying.

> _Ten,_
> 
> _I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to wait longer and for not being able to write as soon as I can._
> 
> _I did think you got held up and I decided to wait a bit more, but my advisor for the photography competition wanted to meet with me and I had to leave. I feel bad for not meeting you, but I’m also glad I did because I won the competition :) I’ve been skipping class to handle last-minute preparations for the exhibit since then._
> 
> _You must have thought I was mad at you, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I tried to ask my roommate to ask around the campus for you and give you a letter I’ve previously written, but he told me there wasn’t any Ten enrolled in the Department of Fine Arts. (I’m guessing he got sidetracked; Taeil hyung has that tendency.)_
> 
> _I’ve attached a flyer of the exhibit, so please drop by. I’m proud of my work, and it’ll be a chance for us to finally meet. You have to bring me a bouquet, though, to make it up to me for making me wait. :)_
> 
> _\- Johnny_
> 
> _P.S. I have something important to tell you, something I want to tell you personally. I really hope you can come._

A glossy piece of paper came with the letter, and Ten is excited to tell Johnny that, yes, he’ll be coming to the exhibit.

They can finally meet. It didn’t matter that he had lost sleep for the past few weeks he hadn’t heard from Johnny, losing focus in class as he thought of possible ways to reach his junior.

Ten brings out his phone and is about to block off the date in his calendar when—

> _Dates: November 11-15, 2013_

His hand stills, thumb hovering over his phone screen.

> _johnny,_
> 
> _i’m sorry i won’t be able to come to your exhibit. i checked the dates and i really can’t make it._
> 
> _but please know you have my full support._
> 
> _\- ten_

Ten goes to the exhibit anyway at five o’clock in the afternoon, a bouquet on one hand and a letter on the other.

He pushes the doors of the exhibit room open, the sounds of the doors opening and his footsteps echoing throughout the empty room. 

Ten checks the flyer he was holding and looks up in front of the empty wall, where he assumes is where the works of the winners are set up. He fixes his look at the empty space and closes his eyes, recalling the image of Johnny’s photo of the sea at sunset.

He doesn’t have to think twice about what the other photos would look like. Somehow, he thinks that Johnny’s photos are warm, contemplative, like the personality he has gotten to know on paper.

He imagines people huddling over the photo, ooh-ing and aah-ing. Johnny would probably be stepping up, wearing a nice dress shirt, smiling and thanking the crowd for coming.

Johnny would scan the crowd, and their eyes would meet—

Ten opens his eyes, only to be met by an empty wall and an empty space.

He sighs, leaving the bouquet of flowers on the bench as he heads out of the empty exhibit and to the bar where Kun and Sicheng are waiting.

> _johnny,_
> 
> _i hope you find this letter at the art gallery. you did well._
> 
> _i know you’re disappointed in me because i wasn’t able to come to your exhibit. i’m very sorry, and i would have had the chance to visit you, i really would. i’d personally hand you your bouquet and maybe take you out on a coffee date, like i’d promised._
> 
> _but that’s the thing, johnny._

Johnny rolls over his back, staring up at the ceiling of his dorm room. Was what Ten is talking about even possible?

> _the dates of the exhibit on the flyer was on november 2013. but it’s currently november 2017 here._
> 
> _i couldn’t believe it either. i checked many times if it was a misprint on the flyer and looked at the art gallery’s list of exhibits, but the year alone was a giveaway._
> 
> _if you were a freshman in 2013, that would place you a year higher than me, and you would have graduated already in my time._
> 
> _this would explain why we weren’t able to meet the first time. the fountain you mentioned was demolished a year ago, when you were probably in your senior year. i just don’t have any explanation as to how your letters found their way to us or how i got your coffee._
> 
> _writing to each other, i know that there’s something different between us, but if we continue, i’m afraid it’ll be more difficult and more frustrating for us. let’s be adults and stop while we can._
> 
> _thank you for being a wonderful person to talk to, a great listener, an amazing friend. i’ll never forget you, and i’ll forever treasure our conversations from the past few weeks._
> 
> _all the best in your future._
> 
> _\- ten_

Johnny has been tossing and turning in his sleep for the past few days, but sleep continues to evade him. He finally gives up, careful not to wake Yuta, who’s sprawled across the floor after deciding to sleep over after getting drunk enough from the bar to celebrate Johnny’s exhibition.

They’re out of coffee beans, but luckily, there’s a pack of instant coffee in the fridge. He heats up a mug, mixes the instant mix, and sits on his study, trying to block out the dull ache that has consumed his heart and dampened the joy of showcasing his photos.

But his thoughts return to the letter, to Ten, to the very impossible but sensible explanation of how things happened between them.

He takes out a pen and a sheet of stationery paper that he has dedicated for _these_ letters, and he starts to write.

> _Ten,_
> 
> _I’ve read your letter, and I can’t stop thinking about you, about us, about everything that’s happened since we’ve started writing to each other. It’s weird that we belong to different times and are still able to write to each other as if we’re sharing the same time and space._
> 
> _You said it’s going to be difficult and frustrating for us because we’re in different times, but does it matter? It doesn’t to me. Because our relationship, strange as it has started, is real._
> 
> _What I feel for you is real._
> 
> _If you’re really four years ahead of me, you’ll be able to meet me in the future, right?_
> 
> _Then, let’s meet._
> 
> _Five years, or sometime in the future, from where you are now—_

His phone beeps. Johnny notices the name and sits up straight, setting the letter aside to read the message from his mother.

“Oh, come on, Ten, I know I can’t force you to hang out with us, but you’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks now.”

Ten scoffs, opening the glass door of the library to let Kun in. “You’re exaggerating. I just want to finish all my schoolwork before winter break.”

It’s part of the truth. Ten really wants to finish all his schoolwork before he returns to Bangkok for winter break.

Another part of the truth is that he keeps rereading Johnny’s letter, particularly the last line, and contemplating on the mix of feelings that have been brewing inside him ever since.

He tries to forget because he knows their relationship— _friendship_ —isn’t going to last from the start.

Ten enjoys seeing Johnny’s notes underneath the desk, but he also wants to see Johnny beyond the photo tucked inside his planner. He wants to sit on the bench across the demolished fountain by the library, a cup of coffee in hand, and maybe a few snacks to share with Johnny.

He wants to take Johnny’s hand in his and answer the P.S. in his letter, because—

“Ten, are you just gonna stand there opening the door for everyone?”

When Ten blinks, he sees Kun’s furrowed eyebrows and the bewildered stares of people who just entered the library. His face turns warm, and he apologizes and ducks his head, following Kun to the university archives.

Ten has never been to the university archives before, so he was surprised to see sleek walls and metal shelves compared to the dusty, wooden-shelved archives in his imagination. He drops his bag on the table close to the door before scanning the shelves for what they’re looking for.

“I’ll start looking at the files dated from 25 to 50 years ago,” Kun announces. “You check the more recent school files.”

“Gotcha.”

Ten follows the signs and squeezes himself in between the shelves dated 2007 to 2016. There’s a steel cabinet by the side containing old copies of the campus publication, and it occurred to him that _Johnny used to be part of the school paper_.

Technically, he’s supposed to research for their final history paper, but it doesn’t hurt to be sidetracked. He opens the shelf and fishes out a long, hardbound book containing the campus publication’s name, the words _Academic Year 2015 to 2016_ written underneath.

He checks the editorial board and frowns when he doesn’t see Johnny’s name in the list. It wouldn’t make sense for Johnny to not be a Photo Editor after winning a schoolwide competition.

_Maybe he chose not to be a photo editor?_

He flips through the yellowing sheets, browsing through the photos, their captions, and their bylines. No sign of Johnny’s name anywhere. 

_Maybe he quit the campus publication?_

As he nears the end of the archived compilation, he stops at the campus’ publication’s year-end edition, a feature of all the graduates and their experiences for the past four years.

He would have skimmed the entire feature and gone looking for Johnny’s in the other compilations when he finally finds the name, printed in large letters.

His knees give way, and Ten struggles to get up to rush back to his table and out of the library, ignoring Kun’s bewildered calls of his name.

> **Always in Our Memories**
> 
> **Johnny Suh (1995-2013)**

“Ten, wait!”

The library was a long mile from the building where he takes his history class, but Ten didn’t even stop to catch his breath. He feels like his legs are about to give up, but he doesn’t care. The mad thumping of his heart and Kun’s voice fade in the background, and all he can focus on were the words he had just read.

> _Tragedy struck the university—and our campus publication—when our budding photographer, Johnny Suh, died of an accident._
> 
> _On November 22, 2013, the then-freshman was on his way to Gangneung to visit his relatives when the passenger bus he had boarded collided with a speeding van._
> 
> _Two weeks before, Johnny was one of the winners of SM University’s annual photography competitions, and his works were displayed at the library’s art gallery._

He finally reaches his destination, yanking the door open, all but stumbling to his usual seat. He zips his bag open, fumbling for a pen and paper amidst his blurring vision. His hands shake as he tries to write.

> _i’ve never replied to you, and you’ve probably given up writing to me too, but i hope that you still find this letter._
> 
> _i can’t disclose the reasons, but i’m asking you for a favor._
> 
> _please don’t leave for gangneung on the 22nd._
> 
> _please._

He hastily folds the paper and slips it under the desk, clasping his hands and hoping that the small piece of paper would reach its recipient, wherever he is.

“Please,” Ten pleads, a hand on his heart while the other clings tightly to the edge of the desk.

He doesn’t even feel Kun’s hand on his arm as he lets his tears fall freely.

_Five years later_

Ten couldn’t believe his luck.

After days of searching for a studio to accommodate his and Kun’s upcoming art exhibit (Dream Launch: A Study of Dreams), he finally finds one. It’s situated in the heart of the city, making it accessible for their friends, guests, and curious passersby.

The rental fee isn’t so bad either. He and Kun aren’t exactly dirt-poor, but their salaries as independent artists and teachers at the local college won’t afford them a spot at the SeMa or the Art Hall of Dongdaemun Design Plaza.

The place looks perfect, too, at least, in photos. It’s small, but enough to fill in their artwork. It’s chic and modern and can attract the people they want to come to visit.

He takes a day off that Wednesday to drop by the art gallery on behalf of Kun, who is too booked with classes and wedding plans. From his view outside the glass door, he sees a young man manning the reception area, scribbling something on a memo pad. 

When he opens the door and steps in, the chimes on top of him jingle, causing the young man to look up. “Welcome!” he greets, face brightening and his smile highlighting his cheekbones. “How may I help you?”

“I’m Ten,” he says, shaking the hand that the receptionist extended. “I called this morning regarding this site tour for an exhibit my friend and I are doing.”

“Oh yeah, I’m the one who answered your call.” The receptionist grins, moving away from his desk. “I’m Mark, by the way. Follow me.”

As Mark gives him the full rundown of the facilities during the tour, the more Ten falls in love with the place. It’s small but intimate, and with the right curating, he and Kun could fit in their works with no problem.

“You know what’s weird?” Mark says as they return to the lobby. “My boss was about to book an exhibit for another artist on your requested day, but he penciled you in at the moment your inquiry came.”

“Really?” Ten chuckles. He’s had fans in the scene, but no one who would go to the extent of pushing away another artist for him. “Any chance I could thank your boss for that?”

Mark beams. “Oh, he’d love to! He’s out at the moment, but you can wait in his office.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally! He usually lets visitors wait in his office anyway.”

Mark’s boss’ office is small yet seemingly bigger with the large window from behind the mahogany desk. Instead of sitting down on the couch, though, Ten plops down his bag and roams the room to look at the photos framed on the walls.

Ah, so the owner of this gallery is a photographer. At least, that’s what he assumes, unless the boss collects photos from his favorite photographers. At least the guy has skill, or taste, as the photos highlight the colors of the moment well.

A photograph near the desk suddenly catches his eye. It’s a photo of a seashore at sunset, the movement of the waves, perfectly captured, pink, orange, and yellow hues coloring the sky. The scene is almost familiar—

He gasps as he remembers. How could he even forget in the first place? It’s a smaller version of the photo before him, printed in photo paper. He has it framed and tucked on his desk, above stacks of letters he had received and had written—and still writes once in a while—and remained unsent. 

“What do you think of that photo?” 

He spins around, and his heartbeat goes into overdrive when he spins around to face to face with a tall, handsome man.

A hand comes up to cover his mouth as tears spring to his eyes. They meet gazes, and he recognizes the tenderness and warmth that has matured the last time Ten has seen him. 

The last time Ten had seen him in a photograph.

“What do you think?” Johnny repeats, a smile spreading to his face.

Ten casts a watery smile. “From one artist to another? I think it’s amazing.” A tear he has tried his hardest to hold off escapes from his eye and rolls down his cheek, and he laughs it off.

“Ten, we finally met,” Johnny says, smile softening as he reaches out his hand and to hold Ten’s.

“I followed your advice. Now it’s my turn to keep my promise to you.”

> _Five years, or sometime in the future, from where you are now, I want to see you._
> 
> _And when I see you, I want to tell you how much I love you._
> 
> _\- Johnny Suh_

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! would appreciate it if you leave a comment or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/loveseosweet) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/loveseosweet). :)


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